


Because

by Minim Calibre (minim_calibre)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-03
Updated: 2002-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-19 09:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15507411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minim_calibre/pseuds/Minim%20Calibre
Summary: Buffy reflecting, post-"Dead Things"





	Because

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Glass Onion](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Glass_Onion), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Glass Onion’s collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/glassonion/profile).

 

Because

## Because

### by Minim Calibre

I don't want to ask myself why; I don't want to know the answer--but if I didn't come back wrong, what the hell am I doing? 

She's trying to understand, to empathize. But this isn't like when Mom died. There's just nothing that can prepare her for something like this. 

Whatever "this" is. 

His skin is so cold that when I touch him, I almost feel warm again. He tells me I belong in the dark; maybe he's right. The dark is soothing against the bright, harsh light of day. 

What the hell have I done? This isn't me. It's not. 

Tara hands me a tissue and I realize she's still trying to make me feel better, even after everything I've told her, everything I've said. Everything I've done. 

If I'm not a monster, then what the hell am I? And why do I only feel like myself again after I've been with one? 

And why can't it ever last long enough for me to be myself with them? 

She tells me that I'm still me, that I didn't come back wrong... 

They say it's a thin line between love and hate. They're wrong. It's more like a mobius strip and I don't know which side of it I'm on anymore. I don't know which side any of us are on. 

I don't know which one I was punishing in the alley, the monster or the man. It's all twisted up. 

"You always hurt the one..." 

Oh, God. I don't want to go there. I can't. 

I wish Giles were here. 

I want someone to lie to me. 

* * *

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